


His Chains

by xwincesterx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BDSM, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwincesterx/pseuds/xwincesterx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam feels the need to suffer for his sins; the very things he'd confessed before the last trial commenced. Taking a hunting break while Sam recovers from that trial, Dean takes on a job that suits desires he thought he'd left behind in Hell...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean sat alone at a bar not too terribly far from their 'super lair' that had become their home. After everything that had happened, trying to complete the trials and thinking they were doing the world some good, they had failed. Thing is, they'd failed on purpose. As bad as Dean thought he should feel, he just didn't. He didn't feel bad for stopping Sam. No wonderland version of the world would ever make Dean happy if Sam wasn't in it with him. He'd take this crap-hole any day of the week, as long as he had his Sammy by his side.

Right now, as he tossed back another shot of whiskey and felt his head swim, he thought about how long it'd actually been since he'd been in a bar. The lair was stocked for drinking, after all. But he'd needed to get out of there, just for a little while. Sam was sick and he'd become angry again with Dean's mother-henning. Maybe not angry. Frustrated. Sam was frustrated that he was sick, and that's just how Sam got when he was sick. But this sick, Dean couldn't help. He couldn't make it better, and truth be told, it kind of killed him a little inside. It meant he was useless; that he couldn't take care of his little brother.

Dean tossed back another shot, slammed the empty glass on the bar and tapped beside it without even looking up at the bartender.

"Rough night?" a man's voice sounded beside him and he turned his head slightly to look. He hadn't even been aware someone had taken the seat beside the empty one next to him. The guy was Dean's age, actually likely a little older. He was dressed oddly, Dean thought as he looked him up and down. He realized that the man had been in some sort of costume and had thrown a big tee shirt over the top half of himself, probably to keep from causing any alarm. It only took a moment, even in his haze, to know what the man did for a living.

"Rough life," Dean replied to the man's question.

"I hear that," he picked up his beer and took a long swig.

Dean glanced back over at him. "They not serve beer over at Crucible?" he asked.

The man seemed genuinely startled that he picked up on where he'd come from. "You a customer over there?" he asked, looking him up and down now.

Dean smirked. "Nah. Had to talk to the owner a few weeks ago, though. Was during daylight hours, so I didn't really see much but the décor." Crucible was a BDSM club. Its owner, they'd thought, was part of a hunt they'd been working on. But it turned out they'd been wrong. "I saw your picture up on the wall," Dean told him, grimacing at himself for mentioning that he'd remembered as much. "You're a Dom."

"You've got a good memory," the man replied. "I do, too. It's why I was surprised you knew the place. Didn't think I'd seen you there before. Name's Bill," he held out his hand.

"Not according to that poster in the club," Dean replied and looked at the man's hand. "You washed before you left there, right?"

Bill let out a choked laugh. "Oh you are funny. You act like I just fist guys all night," he giggled.

"Oh god," Dean turned back to his drink.

"Really, though, we're all clean over there. Part of our contract."

"Contract?" Dean raised a brow as he looked back over at him.

"Yeah. There's a lot that can go wrong if you're unsanitary about stuff. Clean room, clean hands, just as important as a condom."

"Excellent" Dean feigned a smile and downed his shot.

"You should come by and play sometime," Bill said, suggestively. "Nothing helps you through a rough day like a night at Crucible."

"No thanks, pal. I've taken part in both sides of torture before, and I'd rather not do it again."

"Oh, a man with experience," Bill shifted into the seat beside Dean. "You know," he looked around as f making sure no one was listening. Dean felt a bit uncomfortable. "They're looking for another experienced dom to take over temporarily for Blaze."

"That so?" Dean feigned interest, just barely.

"He got a little carried away, and the newbie sub he was working on kinda flipped out and broke his nose. He'll be out for two weeks, or however long it takes for him to get over it and come back."

"And you think I'd wanna do that?" Dean raised a brow at him again. "I'm not exactly into dudes."

"Not exactly? Hmm. Well, most of my clients claim the same thing. Never ask me to touch them in a sexual way, and I'm fine by that, honestly. The pay is great and I get to beat the crap out of jock-boys who can't find a woman strong enough to beat them the way they really want it."

"Great pay, huh?" Dean hears himself say, and he thinks maybe he's had enough to drink that he'd be considering this.

"Oh yeah. Tips on top of it. I quit my job at the bank two weeks ago when I realized I didn't need both anymore."

"And you said it was temporary, right?"

"Swear to god," he raised his hand up, then glanced at the clock on the far wall. "Shit. Honey, I've gotta get back. To answer your initial question, yes they serve beer. But when I'm on break, I want a break. If I do it there, I've got a swarm of subs buzzing around my like mosquitoes." He stood and went for his wallet, trying to fumbled through the tee shirt to find his pocket.

Dean stood and pulled out his own. "I got it," he told him.

Bill smiled at him. "Thanks. You coming, then?"

"To check it out," Dean said as he threw a few bills on the bar.

"Oh goody!" Bill pressed his hands together. "We'll take my car. I've only had a beer. I'll bring you back to get yours afterward."

Dean grunted in agreement. He wasn't in any shape to drive, anyway. And he didn't need to be afraid of taking a ride with a stranger. He had his gun. And his knife. And this dude couldn't even get to his own wallet in all that tee shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

The inside of the club was as cliché as he'd pictured it in his head. The dark, lit up by purple neon lights and lined with fog created by machines that were set up on either side of the larger room. Leather pants seemed like the dress code here. That and collars. And fishnet shirts.

"Am I gonna have to dress like this?" Dean yelled a bit over the noise of the techo-like music playing over the speakers.

"Oh honey, I can't wait to see you in Blaze's hot pants!" Bill exclaimed.

"I'm not wearin' some other dude's pants!" he furrowed his brows.

"Well unless you wanna invest a couple hundred bucks on something you're only gonna wear for a couple of weeks, I suggest you take advantage of the fact that you're both about the same height and build," he replied. "Now come on. I'll give you the tour!"

It took all of fifteen minutes to show Dean around and end up in one of the play rooms, showing him the various toys they had on hand. Once they were finished, Bill brought him up to the bar and bought him a beer.

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

Dean took a breath. "Well, I'm used to a little crueler of toys," he told him, honestly. "But I think I could manage."

"Oh you were into one of those knife play type deals, huh?"

"Guess you could say that," Dean grimaced through a smile.

"We don't quite go that far, here," Bill told him. "And if you get a client that asks for it, you'll have to take him elsewhere if you really wanted to do it. And you'd have to handle that transaction all on your own. Crucible can't be liable if something were to go wrong."

"I don't think I'll be doing anything like that, anyway, Bill," Dean said.

"So you'll take it?"

"Huh?"

"The job," he said and bit his lip in anticipation.

"Oh! Right... Yeah. It's temporary, right? Just for a couple weeks?"

"Absolutely!"

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna need the money, and this'll be more interesting than hustling pool," he cocked his head a moment.

"Oooo excellent!" Bill jumped up and down for a moment, clapping his hands together. Dean pretended not to see it. "I'm gonna go get Marlo and let him know so he can come meet you. You can start tomorrow night, right?"

.~*~.

Sam felt horrible.

Curled up in a ball upon his bed, he couldn't stop thinking about how he'd pushed his brother away when he was just trying to help him. He'd been doing it a lot. Pushing Dean away, trying to make it so Dean didn't have to do him any favors. After all, Dean didn't owe him anything. On the contrary Sam owed Dean everything. And all he'd done was let him down. Even though he'd pushed Dean away because he didn't want it to keep piling up, the list of things Dean did for Sam, he knew it was just hurting him instead. Dean just didn't get it. He didn't understand, and it frustrated the hell out of Sam.

But he had no right to be frustrated. God... Dean just wanted to help. But all Sam kept doing was hurting him. And that fact just hurt more than the pain he was dealing with right now; this illness brought on by the thing inside of him from the trials. In fact, it really wasn't enough pain. Not what he deserved, anyway. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if it would be completely pathetic if he took up cutting. Ya know, since he was seventeen and wearing black hoodies and being sad about everything. Dean hadn't called him 'emo' in a long time. He wasn't sure he wanted to fit back into that category...

"Hey, Sammy, you 'wake?" Dean's voice slurred quietly at the doorway and Sam picked his head up to look at him. His light was still on, as it always seemed to be lately, bringing him some small form of comfort. "God, Sam, wha's wrong?" Dean's face washed with worry as he rushed over to Sam's side, kneeling on the floor beside the head of the bed as his hands moved to his younger brother's face.

At first, Sam was confused as to what he'd meant, but the moment Dean's thumbs began swiping over his cheeks, he realized he'd been crying.

"Is it that bad? Do you need somethin'?"

"I'm okay," Sam pushed his hands away and swiped at his face, embarrassed.

"I shouldn'a left you here. Kevin's passed out drunk and I was just...gone. I shouldn'a left-"

"I'm fine, Dean!" Sam protested. "You being here wouldn't have changed anything anyway!"

Now...the moment he'd said it, he regretted it. The words and the tone combined. He didn't actually mean it like it'd sounded, but the desperation to take the attention off of his traitorous tear-stained face had caused him to say the thing that would make Dean stop looking at him like he needed him. But that look; the wounded heartbroken look Dean got for just seconds before he was able to school himself back in, made Sam feel like the worst person in the world.

"Dean, I-"

"It's okay, Sam," Dean replied as he pushed up off of the floor.

"No. I didn't mean that the way it sounded..."

"Don't worry about it," he shook his head. "You're almost always a bitch when you're sick," he forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, Dean..."

"It's okay," Dean's brows furrowed. "I'm used to it, I guess."

"You shouldn't have to be," Sam said almost too quietly for Dean to hear.

Every fiber of Dean's being screamed out that there was something more wrong with Sam than feeling sick. But he knew his questions would only further get on his brother's nerves. So he decided to change the subject.

"So I got a job," Dean said, trying to be lighter in his mood.

"What?" Sam looked up at him.

"Yeah, I uh...figured we could use some honest money for a change. Figured you might be happy about that...or something."

"Where?" Sam turned over onto his back and pushed back up against the headboard.

Dean froze for a moment. He knew that Sam knew what Crucible was. "Just a club," he replied. "They needed someone who could knock a guy around if necessary."

"So...like a bouncer?" Sam's brows rose.

"Like that, yeah," Dean's eyes shifted a bit.

"How'd you manage to get picked for something like that?" he asked, a small smile playing on the corner of his mouth. Dean got an offended look on his face for just a moment. "I just mean you don't really look like the bouncer type, is all," he let out a small laugh.

Dean relaxed marginally. "It's a temp job, Sam," he cocked his head. "And I can handle a few rowdy drunks, thank you very much."

"Oh I know that."

"That's right. And like I said, temporary. They needed someone to fill in for a guy that got injured. Just a couple weeks. Means I'll be off your back for a little bit, night anyway." Sam looked down, feeling a bit guilty. "Shift starts at 9 and I wouldn't get home till 4am."

"That's pretty late," he commented.

"Gotta help with clean up, too, apparently. It's all good, though. We could use a refill on funds."

"Maybe when I'm...feeling better, I could try and find something, too," Sam suggested.

"Sure, why not?" Dean raised his brows. "I hear they're looking for a puppy handler down at the groomer's on Main Street," he smirked.

"Bite me, jerk," Sam couldn't help the smile that traitorously curved the corners of his mouth up.

"You can't tell me you wouldn't jump on that job."

Sam sighed. "Okay fine. But that's only because I'd rather take care of innocent little dogs than to push around sweaty drunk rednecks."

"Yeah, well, the pay will make up for that," Dean retorted and turned to head out of the room. "Want a beer or something before I hit the hay?"

"I'm good," he replied. "Dean, I really am sorry..."

"I know. G'night, Sammy," he said before he left the room.

Sam still felt that pit of regret in his stomach. If he'd eaten anything in the last several hours, he might've thrown it up right then...


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh god..." Dean looked at himself in the full length mirror in the changing room of the club. "I look like a...gay biker." The black neoprene pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

"Relax," Bill said beside him. "You look hot. And you have got one fine ass, honey."

"Okay so I can live with the pants," he conceded, "But there's not way in hell I'm wearing this fishnet shirt crap."

"Yeah, I don't like it either," Bill agreed. "I don't like it on anyway, to be honest, but Blaze looks halfway decent in it. Here, try this," he handed him another vest made of the same material as the pants. Dean pulled the shirt off and took the vest from Bill.

"I'm so glad it's air conditioned in here," Dean said as he slipped the vest on and zipped up the front of it. "Alright...this is better, at least. Man, is this the same crap they make super-hero costumes with? You can see everything..."

"That's kinda the point," Bill smirked. "I'd let you flog me, and I'm not even into being a sub."

"Very encouraging," Dean sighed again. "Alright so, how do we do this? I don't have to work the room or anything, do I?"

Bill let out a bit of a laugh. "All you have to do, honey, is to be out there in the main area lookin' as fine as you do. The guys that come in here, they've gotta work the room. If they're interested in you, they'll let you know. But ultimately it's up to you who you end up choosing to work over."

"Hm... So how does the pay work? I dunno what to charge or whatever. I mean, do certain things cost certain amounts?"

"There are rates per hour according to how many toys they want involved in play," he explained. "Some guys are satisfied with just the flogger being used. Others are...well, into some variety. More toys, more money. Everything is charged up front. Or rather, their card is held until the end. They can express how much of a tip they wanna leave on top of the charge total, and since you're a temp, we can just send you home with cash at the end of the night."

"Sounds good to me," Dean replied. "I mean the money part. Eh...is it cool if when a guy picks me, I tell him what I absolutely won't do?"

"Of course," he waved his hand. "You choosing not to do things only hurts how much you take home at the end of the night. You're under no obligation to do anything at all."

Dean went over all of these things in his head as he roamed the main area. There were a lot more people there than he thought there'd be. It made him a little nervous, if he was gonna be honest with himself.

It was clear that not everyone in the club was looking for a dom. There were couple there, obvious doms with their subs; most of them playing publicly on the side of the room furthest from the bar. Then there were the ones watching them play. Dean figured maybe they were testing the waters of this world.

Then, of course, there were the ones looking for club-provided services. He was surprised when a rather large-figured man walked directly over to him. He didn't look like a sub at all. In fact, for a moment, Dean thought the man had mistaken him for a sub looking for a dom.

"Hey," the man said, and Dean swallowed back the nerves.

"Hi."

"You're new, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, I've tried all these guys out, and none of them are rough enough," he told him, not ever quite making eye contact. "If you can make it worth my while, I'll pay you double."

Oh, Dean thought. "Uh...how long?"

"Depends on whether or not you do a proper job," he replied. "I know how the pay works. I'll leave my card up front. What room are you in?"

"Seven," Dean replied, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice.

"I'll meet you there in five."

Dean nodded and watched him wander to the front to pay. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and suddenly Bill was at his side. "Oh lord, Dean," he said. "I hope your experience can help you with this guy."

Dean signaled the bartender to bring him a shot. "What kinda stuff does this guy want, exactly?"

"He never tells us what to do," Bill raised his brows. "He just wants you to hurt him best you can. No one ever does enough for him."

Dean tossed back the shot and thought about that for a moment. "How long does he give you to prove yourself, generally?"

"Something like ten minutes," he replied.

"Okay," he tossed back a second shot and slammed the glass down on the bar, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I got this," he said before heading toward room seven to set up.

.~*~.

Sam had been asleep half the day, so when he woke up to Dean getting home, he wasn't all that surprised to be ready to get up.

He turned to the side table and checked his watch. It was just a little after 4. He figured Dean would check in on him before heading off to bed, so he laid there for a few minutes, listening to him as he moved about the lair. However, Dean didn't come to Sam's room. Sam heard the bed creak in the next room over, indicating he'd just gone ahead to his own.

Sam decided to get up and see how his first day went. "Hard night?" Sam asked when he saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows propped on his knees, and head in hands.

Dean's head shot up to look toward the door. "Didn't mean to wake you," he replied, startled to see Sam standing there in the doorway.

"I was just getting up," Sam said, furrowing his brows at how exhausted his brother looked. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean put on a small smile. "Just tired."

"You have to throw anyone out?" he asked as he pushed away from the frame and entered fully into the room.

"Nah. Had to rough a guy up though," Dean said and bit his lip as Sam sat down beside him. "You feeling okay?" he changed the subject, quickly.

"Actually, yeah," he replied. "I just kinda slept all day. I'm kinda hungry."

"I can make you something-"

"No, dude, it's alright," Sam smiled and shook his head. "You look like your asleep on your feet. I can fix myself a sandwich. It's not that big a deal. You want one?"

"Uh...nah I'm good," he replied, and Sam couldn't help but to notice that he seemed fidgety.

"You sure you're okay, man?"

"Yeah. Just...was kind of a weird night," he half smiled at him, and Sam was about to ask if he wanted to talk about it, but then Dean's hand was on his shoulder, giving him a light shake. "Maybe I'll tell you about it some day," he smiled. "Now get outta my room. I can't crash with your gigantor ass taking up half my bed."

Sam snorted and pushed him as he stood from the bed, smiling despite the comment. "Night, Dean. See you around noon," he said, Dean nodding to him before he left.

Once he heard Sam in the kitchen, Dean stripped out of his shirt and pants, grateful that Crucible had a shower room so he didn't have to come home smelling like the place. He flopped down on his bed on his back and reached over to cut off the light, then stared up at the ceiling where the light from the hallway shined over it in a line.

He thought about his night. About the man who none of the others had been able to satisfy. About how the man had had to use his safe word to get him to stop. About how he'd paid him more than the double he'd promised, and then told the owner that he should get Dean to properly train the doms. About how he told them there was no way in hell anyone else should know how to do what he did, and that the guy would just have to figure something else out.

Most of all, though, he thought about how he'd enjoyed it. And how much that that fact was wrong.

Sure there plenty of people that did this for pleasure, but Dean couldn't help but to remember where he'd learned how to torture. How he'd taken pleasure in what he'd done in Hell. Even though he knew that pleasure was more derived from the feeling of paying back for his own suffering down there.

He had to keep reminding himself now, though, that this kind of torture was wanted. Paid for, even. These people wanted this. It brought them gratification. That meant it was okay to enjoy it. Right? It was okay that Dean took pleasure in this job.

He kept saying that over and over in his head as he brought himself off...


	4. Chapter 4

It's been a week since Dean got the job, and Sam is actually missing him being around. It makes him feel even more guilty for pushing him away. Dean was always so exhausted when he came home, too. He'd always go straight to his room, and Sam tried to make himself believe that it was because the job made him tired, and not that he was purposely not coming to check on Sam first.

It made that knot in the pit of his stomach tighten even more, really. He'd so successfully pushed his brother away, it made him want to vomit. That's not what he'd meant to do. He loved Dean. More than anything in the whole world, he loved him. Maybe more than he should. Maybe more than he could ever even dare to say. And he'd pushed him away.

It's not that Dean didn't talk to him or acknowledge his presence. But it was definitely different. Dean only ever asked how he was when Sam approached him. He only asked if he needed him to get anything if Sam said he wanted it first. There was no visit to his room at night. No coddling, no meals brought to him. No touching.

Hell, he didn't think he'd miss it this much, but he did. And it'd only been a week. Sam didn't realize how much comfort he'd taken in the little touches. When Dean would feel his forehead and put a hand on his back or arm while asking if everything was okay. Dean had stopped it all. And Sam didn't know what to do.

When Sam had gotten out of Hell, completely, he felt as though the suffering he'd endured down there in the pit had absolved him of his past sins. Like he'd gotten a beating for every bad deed he'd ever committed and that was punishment enough to let it be free from his mind.

The trials had felt a little like that, too. Or rather the stuff inside of him from the trials... But now he wasn't so sure. This stuff, whatever it was, had made his mind more clear and able to recall so much from their past. Things he didn't even think about in Hell or anywhere else.

There was a lot of good to remember. But there was also a lot of bad. Not super awful bad things, but just...every time he'd disappointed Dean or their dad, or every time he'd made things harder on them, purposely. Every time he'd made Dean feel guilty just to get his way.

And he remembered everything Dean had done for him, growing up and otherwise. Everything he'd given up for him, sacrificed, fought...everything. And how little Sam had done in return, in reality. More than one occasion that Dean practically had to beg to get Sam back with him on the road. Just back with him, being his brother.

Would life really have been all that great if he'd graduated and become a lawyer and had a white picket fence and a little house and a dog and Jess...? But all of that had been a lie, too. Well, all of it had been a set up. Jess never would've been with Sam if the supernatural hadn't intervened. None of that was ever meant to be. Al it turned out to accomplish was to show Dean how quickly he would abandon him for a 'better life'.

God...a better life... How much of an asshole could he possibly be? Basically he'd made it sound like a better life didn't include Dean. After all he'd done for him, that's how he repaid him. He'd done it again with Amelia, too. He was going to go back to her and leave Dean all over again. For that 'better life'.

"Fuck..." Sam let out a sob into his clenched fists. "Such an asshole..." he thought. "I'm a fucking horrible brother."

"Dude, you okay?" Kevin was suddenly at his door, peeking worriedly into the room.

Sam swiped the tears from his face and pushed himself up and out of the bed altogether. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said without looking at him, and made his way to the closet. "I just really need to get the hell out of here for a little bit."

"Uh...are you sure that's a good idea, man?"

"It's fine."

"I can go with you."

"No!" Sam looked at him, then. "No, it's okay. I can take care of myself. Just...just go to bed, man. You look exhausted."

"Just got a headache, is all. I'm fine. What're you gonna do?"

"I dunno," Sam shook his head as he looked through his clothes. "Maybe hit a bar or something."

"We've got stuff here-"

"I just...I need to get out of here for a bit, okay? It's not about the drinking."

The look in Sam's pleading eyes made Kevin sort of understand. More than sort of, really. "Okay. But at least bring your phone and...call once in a while and let me know you aren't being highjacked by angels or something?"

Sam's face softened. "Yeah, sure..."

.~*~.

Sam had grabbed a cab into the bar district. Sure, it wasn't far away to walk. But he wasn't sure if he could handle himself very well if he were to be jumped right now. Not that he wouldn't mind getting the crap kicked out of him or anything. He deserved it, after all. But Dean would never let him leave the lair again if that happened.

After paying the cabbie, Sam walked up the strip absentmindedly looking for Dean's car, trying to find a bar that wasn't so crowded, and thought about that whole 'getting jumped' idea that'd implanted itself in his head. Maybe he could just...get into a fight and let the guy get a few good hits in on him before Sam took him down. But there was always that danger of him not being able to handle it on his own, as much as he hated to admit it. He'd been pretty much in bed for a week. He was weaker than normal, and he couldn't let himself get seriously injured. That'd just be one more selfish thing he'd end up hurting Dean with.

Then suddenly it popped into his head. That club owner they'd investigated a couple weeks ago. The BDSM club. It was just a block or so from where he was right now. That would be perfect! But as the club came into his view just a few minutes later, he looked down at himself and what he was wearing. He couldn't very well stroll into the place in loose-fit jeans and a flannel button down that was a bit too big for him around. No. He needed to be desirable in the eyes of a dom. He knew how it worked. They needed to pick him just as much as he picked them.

Lucky for Sam, there was a shop right next door to the club, specifically specializing in this kind of club wear...

.~*~.

"Slow night," Bill sighed as he approached Dean at the bar. "For you, at least," he smirked.

"I'm not for everyone," Dean smirked back. He'd gotten a reputation for being the roughest of them all, which intimidated some of the younger ones, but didn't stop him from getting a few clients a night out of it, and a hefty wad of cash on his way out the door.

"You're still making more than any of the rest of us, you bitch," he elbowed Dean in the side.

"Hey, you recruited me. You should be proud, asshole."

"Oh I am, honey. I'm just sad you'll be leaving in a week."

"It's a good thing, trust me. If Sam knew what I was doing, he'd..." Dean shook his head, trying not to think about it. To the patrons of Crucible, Sam was his partner. That's how they'd introduced themselves when talking to the owner about the case. But they hadn't introduced themselves as officers. Just partners. And since Dean had needed a job there, he had to hope they'd come to a conclusion that would suit it best.

"Oh dear sweet baby Jesus," Bill practically sang, "Look at what just walked in the door. Fresh meat and a tall glass of water I could drink all...night...long..."

"Is that two people, or are you just...oh my god..." Dean finally caught sight of the guy.

"Told you."

He was wearing the same type of neoprene pants Dean had, and an extremely tight teeshirt. Hair pulled back into a ponytail as much as it could be with the ends that weren't quite long enough hanging at the sides of his face. And...good god was that...was he wearing eyeliner?

"Sammy..." Dean whispered, and Bill looked over at him with wide eyes...


	5. Chapter 5

"Your Sammy?" Bill gaped. "Honey why the hell does he need to be in here?"

"I..." Dean shook his head, unable to come up with a reply. "Quick, man, give me one of the masks."

"What?"

"Sam doesn't know I work here!"

"Oh...oh! Here, baby," he reached behind the bar and grabbed an executioner mask, handing it to Dean. "Just washed. Honey, what do you want me to do? Kick him out?"

"See what he wants," Dean told him as he pulled the mask on over his head. "I fucking hate these things," he fidgeted with the cloth so it fit correctly. "And don't let anybody touch him!"

Bill nodded and strolled over to where Sam had sat down at the bar, shaking his head at some of the other doms that seemed to begin to migrate over. "Taken by Macho Man," he mouthed, pointing a thumb in Dean's direction. Yes. That was his dom name. Not very creative, but Bill had said it one night and it kinda worked.

Bill sat in the stool next to Sam as he tossed back a shot. Just like Dean, he noted. "Hello there," he greeted.

Sam turned his head, a little startled there was someone beside him. "Hey..."

"What're you in for, hot stuff?" he smiled seductively.

"Um..." Sam's eyes flitted in the air between them for a moment.

"Don't panic, honey," Bill put a hand on his arm, then pulled it away quickly, remembering Dean's demand. "You can tell me. Nothin' you can say that I haven't heard before."

"I um...I just wanna be...worked over," Sam said. "No sex. Nothing like that. Just...I need...I need to be punished."

"Punished? For what, honey?" Sam's gaze fell away to the bar. "Sweetheart, whatever it is, we don't judge, here. Do you see what we're all wearing? You think we don't have a few things in our pasts that led us here?"

Sam swallowed and turned to look at him again. "I've...been a horrible person," he started, "To the person I love most in this whole world. I've..." his eyes started to become wet, and Bill's heart suddenly ached. "I've been selfish and ungrateful...and an asshole," his voice cracked. "I wanna suffer for it." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Can you handle that?" he toughened up.

Bill looked at him long and hard. "Room seven," he told him. "Five minutes. Do not be late."

Sam nodded. "Do I need to pay up front?"

"Just...go on, honey. You can settle up later." He left Sam and headed over to Dean, sitting down at the bar beside him a good twenty feet away from where he'd been with Sam.

"What happened?" Dean asked as he watched Sam down another shot and get up to head toward the rooms.

"He's... God, the poor kid is miserable with guilt," Bill told him, looking defeated. "He says he's hurt the person he loves the most in the world. That he's been a selfish, ungrateful asshole and he wants to be punished for it. He asked if I could handle it. I told him to go to room seven. It's hard for me to believe you of all people could've let your sub get out of line..."

"He's not..." Dean gritted his teeth for a moment. "It's not like that, Bill. Neither of us do this shit. I had no idea he'd... Fuck..."

"Well it looks like both of you will be learning something about each other tonight."

"I didn't think there was anything else to learn..."

"Surprise," Bill smiled, waving his hands around in the air. "So," he put his hands down and put his serious face back on. "What're ya gonna do?"

"I dunno," Dean shook his head. "Whatever he's thinkin', though, he doesn't need to have the crap beat out of him. I told him everything was okay, that he didn't have to feel like that. Fuck, I mean we just had this conversation," he clenched his jaw again, remembering how Sam was ready to sacrifice his life for the trials, all because of that shit he'd confessed; all because he felt worthless because of how he'd treated Dean.

"Honey, regardless of how you feel, he feels like he needs this," Bill told him. "It's the same reason anyone wants this stuff. They feel better afterward. It makes them feel like they've done penance. It's kinda like Catholicism in a way."

"What?" Dean got an incredulous look on his face as he met Bill's eyes.

"Oh don't act like you don't see it," he waved a hand at him. "Ten hail-Marys...ten lashings."

Dean tilted his head, raising his brows as it finally clicked. "Okay. But you don't think he could possibly think that he deserves..."

"I think he thinks he does. And that's what matters, honey. Now get in there and do what you've gotta do..."

.~*~.

Dean stood outside of room seven, facing the door and trying to breathe. He'd have to tell him who he was. But he'd have to do it at the right time. And he had a plan derived in his head before he opened the door and walked into the room, closing the door behind him before he looked over at Sam. He looked as nervous as Dean felt, yet also looked ready to get started. He'd taken off his shirt, had it neatly folded and set down on the chair. Dean had to smile at that, though Sam wouldn't see his expression behind the mask.

"Um," Sam started. "You're not the same guy I talked to, are you?" Dean simply shook his head. "I uh...did he tell you what I came for?" Dean nodded. "No sex stuff," he restated. "Just...just pain." Dean clenched his jaw. "What do I do? Where do you want me?" Dean moved closer, taking hold of his arms and moving them over his head toward the shackles that hung from chains from the ceiling. Without looking at Sam's face, Dean placed each wrist in the leather-coated cuffs, then moved to the wall and flipped a switch, causing the chains to start to rise up mechanically. This startled Sam for a moment, and Dean wanted to laugh at the absurdity of all of this.

Once Sam's hands were high enough up that if his knees gave out, he'd still be on his feet, Dean flipped the switch back off and went to a drawer to fetch a few items.

"So are you gonna talk at all, or..."

"Yeah," Dean replied, and turned around. "I just needed to make sure you couldn't get away, first."

Sam's eyes widened comically as he recognized the voice. "D-D...Dean?" he looked like he might actually cry.

Dean pulled the mask off, tossing the stupid thing off to the corner. "Didn't want you to figure out what I was actually doing," he told him, "But it seems we've both got some secrets, huh?"

"Dean, I-"

"Save it, Sammy. I get it," he said without any bite, and the use of that name made Sam marginally relax some. "I get what you think you need, and I can give it better than anyone in this joint. And since you seem to think your sins are against me, who better to dish it?" Sam made some noises, grunts, something identifiable to anyone but them, and Dean knew he was somewhere in the middle of panic and pleading. "Normally I'd go for punching you in the face, but this might be more fun," he said as he held up the flogger. He stepped real close to Sam's face and looked him in the eye. "You wearin' makeup, little brother?" he asked almost seductively, and that fact hit both of them with a force they weren't entirely sure they were ready to handle.

"Guy next door," Sam explained, "Thought it would make me look hot. He put it on me."

"Oh you do look pretty hot, Sam," Dean thought, looking him up and down. "How much this is outfit cost?"

"I dunno. Just charged it."

"That was a bit frivolous, don't you think?"

"It was kind of an emergency," he retorted.

"No harm done," Dean said as he walked around to the back of Sam, checking out his ass in those pants and then quickly looking away again. "Gotta look he part, right?" Neither of them said anything for a moment. And then Dean squeezed his hand around the handle of the flogger, drew his arm back and whipped Sam's back with all his strength, one lash after another, ignoring the way Sam's body tensed and flailed with each blow. Dean wasn't holding back, either. He knew how much it stung.

After about twenty of them, he'd lost count, he stopped, seeing Sam's body go weak in the knees. "Had enough?"

Sam shook his head.

"I think you've had enough, Sam," he retorted to the denial.

"It's not," Sam countered. "Not enough for what I've done. Use something else. Use... Just..."

Dean walked around to the front of him and Sam for some reason squirmed. "Why do you think you need more? Like you haven't suffered enough? This shit aside."

"Because I still feel like a horrible brother," Sam replied, softly, wetness in his eyes.

Dean shook his head, wanting to tell him how wrong he was, but his gaze ended up falling to the bulge that had suddenly grown in Sam's pants, and realized why he'd squirmed in the first place. He directed his gaze back up to Sam's face, trying not to let himself feel the jolt of lust that had just hit his gut.

"Fine," Dean said finally. "You want it to hurt more, you gotta lose the pants," he said as he reached out and gripped the waistband.

"Wait!" Sam yelped, but Dean had already tugged them down, and realized why Sam had shouted.

"Jesus," Dean backed off for a moment. "No underwear, dude?"

"The b-boxers bunched up too much and made the pants look s-stupid," he replied, nervous and a little ashamed, not that his junk was showing, but that he was more than half hard and Dean could see it...

"Well then, guess it doesn't matter," Dean said, coming to finish pulling them down, all the way to his calves. "You wanna stop?"

"N-no..." he breathed a bit faster.

"Okay, then." Dean walked back over to the items he'd pulled out, and picked up the leather whip, nervous about using this on Sam, as it tended to break the skin. This had generally been reserved for his more hardcore clients, and once it was used it had to be thrown away or kept to use on the same client in the future. Clients usually brought their own in, but they kept a few handy from the supply place next door for cases like this.

"This is gonna hurt, Sam..."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean pulled his arm back, then delivered the first blow. Sam tried to bite back the pained groan from the painful, burning sting to his thighs. Dean just kept going, being sure not to put all his strength behind it while delivering blow after blow down the backs of Sam's thighs until he got bored with using the thing.

He walked back to the table, glancing over to see Sam's face as he went. His head hung down in front of him as he tried to catch his breath, and there was no way Dean could've avoided seeing the fully hard length of Sam's cock which was now sprung up almost touching his abdomen, the tip glistening as it bobbed in front of him. The lust simmering in his gut doubled.

"My my, Sammy boy," Dean took a few steps toward Sam's side. "That because of the pain?" he asked, and then boldly, "Or because it's me doing it?" Sam let out another groan, weak from the beating and unable to find the words he needed to. But as Dean watched the pre-come drizzle from the tip at his words, he knew the answer. And it had him rock hard in the confines of the damned dom pants.

"S'that so?" he almost whispered into Sam's ear. "You hard for me, Sammy?" Sam shivered as the feel of his breath at his ear. Dean decided to push his luck and brought a hand up to Sam's stomach. "You sure you don't want any of that...sex stuff...baby brother?" he added, and Sam keened, knees wobbling as Dean's fingers moved along his skin.

"N...no, D'n... Can't," he told him. "Can't...let me come. This...this isn't about pleasure. It's...I need to be punished... I...I've been such a dick to you. I've pushed you away and I...I'm so sorry, Dean..."

"See now," Dean let his hand move in small circles on Sam's stomach, just above his belly button. "I think you've suffered enough. I think you've paid the price for every tiny little thing you ever thought was wrong, long before now, Sammy." His other hand pressed into the small of Sam's back, and his crotch lined up with Sam's naked hip. "I think it's about damn time you got something good outta this life." His hand moved a little lower. "You want me to stop, you just tell me, and I'll stop."

"Don't want...Dean, you don't have to keep just...giving me everything I want. You've been doing it my whole life, and all I've done is treat you like... god, Dean, I'm such..."

"Stop it," Dean's hand went up to the back of Sam's head, grabbing a handful of that hair and pulling, just tight enough to get his attention. "Stop telling me you don't deserve what I give you, Sammy. You deserve it. And I want to do it, Sam. I always want to... I always..." and his hand grabbed around the throbbing thick length and Sam nearly shouted out at the sensation. "Always want to give you what you deserve, baby boy..." his lips touched Sam's ear and the younger man melted. "That's it, Sammy. Just let it happen. Because you deserve to feel good for a change. Because you need to let me help you feel good," his lips met the skin of his neck gently, before he began to sink down to his knees in front of him.

Sam's eyes popped open, not having remembered when he'd shut them, and watched as Dean knelt down in front of him. He was looking up at him the entire time, and Sam's brain short-circuited when Dean's tongue snuck out from between his lips and dipped into the leaking slit on the head of his cock, tasting him.

"Fuck, Dean," he groaned, trying not to give in to the urge to thrust his hips as his brother took him into his mouth. "Is this...what you do for all your customers?"

"No," Dean pulled his mouth away. "Just the ones willing to pay big. You willing to pay big, Sam?" he asked right before taking him all the way in, right into his throat and swallowing over the head.

Sam threw his head back, body flailing at the sudden sensation, gasping for the air that had just emptied out in one big rush. "De...Dean..."

"That's my name," he smirked as he pulled off of him with an audible pop.

"Dean...you can't do this," he said, trying to catch his breath. "I'm your brother. We brothers."

"Yeah. So what?"

"So it's...wrong?"

Dean smiled big and let out a laugh. "Wrong, huh?" he replied. "Says who? Society? Since when do we play by society's rules?"

"I'm pretty sure it's more than society."

"What, the Bible? You kiddin' me right now?" his expression grew incredulous. "The same book where God tells us to forgive everyone, yet can't forgive Eve for the whole apple thing still? Or how a guy loving another guy is somehow this...monstrous horrific damnable sin? Fuck that bullshit, Sam! So there's a God, sure. But as far as that book goes, either it's fiction, or somebody fucked with it along the way. If God claims to be love, then how is any love wrong?"

Sam looked at him for a long moment. "I always thought maybe there was some stuff about the Bible that didn't quite add up, too," he said. "And what better way for a demon to taint Christianity, or thwart God's will, than to taint the very guide book he gave us?"

Dean kept eye contact with his brother for a few moments more. "Can I suck you off now, or do you wanna keep discussing biblical philosophy?"

Sam's nostrils flared as his eyes twitched in response to the question. "Aren't you supposed to be the dominant in this room? Don't you make the orders?"

Dean's mouth curled up on one side slyly, right before he took Sam into his mouth again. He relished in the sounds Sam was making over him. Loved how his legs trembled under his touch. But he felt something else there, too. Sam was holding back, tensing up. Despite everything Dean had just said to him, Sam was trying to stop himself from having this.

Well Dean was having none of that. He pulled off of Sam long enough to reach for the tube on the shelf in arm's reach. Then he took Sam back into his mouth before he could realize what was happening.

Sam was conflicted. This felt good. It felt right. It was what he never knew he'd wanted. But why should he have what he wanted? He didn't deserve that, yet here Dean was, as usual, giving him everything. He didn't deserve this, and yet he didn't want to him to stop. He wasn't sure what to do except to try with everything in himself not to come.

But then Dean did something else. Something he hadn't been expecting at all. And he did it so quickly, Sam barely had time to process what happened until Dean's finger was pressing insistently at Sam's prostate. The sensation was so foreign, so intense, he wasn't sure how to respond to it except to cry out in a mixture of approval and begging to stop because he was that close to losing all control.

But that swiftly changed completely into nearly losing control, and then it was panic. "Dean...Dean! I'm...gonna... Dean, I'm- guh! Oh god!" he shouted with his release, and with the thought that Dean was still sucking him down, taking every drop of what he had to offer...


	7. Chapter 7

When Sam started to become aware again, he felt his arms coming down out of the shackles, and realized the chains had been lowered enough that when his weight began its downward decent, even with Dean catching him, he wouldn't have fallen very far down.

He realized, then, that he'd been cleaned up and his pants pulled back up.

Dean...

Dean had just sucked him off...with his finger in his ass...and swallowed his come.

Oh god...

"Stop thinking," Dean said as he changed into his normal clothes on the other side of the room. Sam looked at him in question. "You're thinking so loud I can hear it."

"Am not."

"Are too. So stop it."

"But we just..."

"Yeah. Well that ain't nothin', Sam," he told him. "I'm clockin' out and takin' you home, where I can show you a proper good time."

"A what?" Sam seemed confused as he pulled on his tee shirt. Dean didn't respond. He just waited for his brother to catch on, and when he did, Dean knew it from the way his breathing changed.

"Unless you don't want that," Dean looked at him with raised brows. "I mean, if you'd like to stay here and let Billy the Kid have his way with you, be my guest. But I sure as hell ain't payin' for it."

"I wouldn't need you to... No. No, I'll... You can take me home," his voice cracked and he looked down at the floor.

Dean walked up to him, pulling Sam's chin up with two fingers so he could see his face. "Nothin' to be ashamed of, Sammy," he told him, softly. "I promise." Then Sam nearly felt his heart seize for a moment as Dean's lips were suddenly on his. Gentle at first, and then he was using his mouth to open Sam's, and his tongue snuck inside to meet Sam's. Then there was nothing gentle about it all.

Sam moaned into it, tasting himself in his mouth, feeling Dean's hands on either side of his face, then in his hair as their kiss ran deep, almost blood-drawing in it ferocity.

Sam's hands, which he seemed to just now remember he had, made their way onto Dean's hips, cautiously. Then moved a bit up, just to wear the waistband of his jeans met his naked skin, and Dean moaned into his mouth. The sound shot through Sam like a bolt of lightning and it made him less hesitant to use his hands. They shoved right up under Dean's shirt, stretching out over the skin of his back, then down again, dipping into the back of his jeans.

Dean pulled away, then, catching his breath as he looked his brother in the eye. "Not here, baby boy," he told him in a gravelly tone. "C'mon. Let's get outta here."

"'m not a baby," Sam said without any heat.

"No, you're not," Dean agreed as he led him out. "But you're my baby."

"That sounds weird."

"Shut the fuck up and go with it. You rather me call you sweet-cheeks?" Sam made a bitch face. "Your cheeks are pretty damn sweet, after all."

"I think I'd rather you not."

"Fine. Baby it is, then."

Sam would've argued, but Dean's hand was suddenly on his ass. Like, just there, like it's where it belonged, and it made it hard for Sam to remember what they'd been talking about. Later, he'd wonder if Dean had done that on purpose.

"Aw are you guys leaving?" Bill asked as he watched them head toward the exit.

"Sorry, Bill," Dean told him. "Sam doesn't want me workin' here anymore, and I've gotta take him home and make up for everything," he winked. "I don't need the pay from tonight. Just keep it, okay? And uh...thanks. For everything."

"Come back and see us sometime, at least," Bill looked saddened.

"I'll try," Dean told him. Then they left. The drive to the lair only took a couple of minutes, and they needed to school themselves until they could get to Dean's room. Just in case Kevin was up, that is. But the kid was already passed out, and Dean made a note to kick his ass in the morning for letting Sam go out on his own without calling and letting him know.

"He'll hear us," Sam told him as Dean shut the bedroom door behind them.

"No he won't," Dean replied. "Soundproof, remember? It's why we keep our doors cracked open in the first place. Just in case..."

"Oh... Right," Sam had forgotten. And while he thought about that, Dean was stripping out of his clothes and rummaging through the drawer beside his bed. He pulled out a few items Sam couldn't see, and then turned to face him.

"'m I doin' this solo, or you wanna join me, here?" Dean asked with a raised brow.

Sam swallowed. Then he quickly stripped himself of his own clothes, Dean watching as he did so. And when he was done, he stood there like he didn't know what he was supposed to do next. Dean seemed to get the picture.

"On the bed, Sammy. Hands and knees," he instructed. Sam took a nervous breath, then did as he was told. "I don't wanna tie you down, because there's a lot I wanna do tonight," Dean told him as he crawled up behind Sam, causing the mattress to dip a little. "But if you get outta line, I guess I won't have a choice."

"What?" Sam tensed. "What the hell does that even mean? How would I get outta line?"

"Like if I give you an order and you don't follow it," he explained.

"Look, Dean," Sam started to twist around, but Dean's hands on his hips stopped him, holding him firmly where he was supposed to be. For some reason it made Sam harder. "I... The dom/sub scene isn't...isn't really something I'm into," he told him. "I just...um..."

"You went there to get hurt," Dean stated, already knowing. "Well, you got what you went there for. And then some," he smirked, even though Sam couldn't see it. "And now we're gonna finish what I wanted to do while we were still there. If you don't like it, if it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop, and we'll stop. But right now, we're playing this my way. We played it your way already, Sam. I didn't like having to whip the shit out of my own baby brother. But I did it. Because you asked. Now it's my turn."

And Dean was right. Sam felt it stronger than Dean might think he did. Dean deserved to take what he wanted from Sam. He deserved even more than that, really.

"Yeah," Sam let out a breath. "Anything, Dean. Anything you want. You can have whatever you want," he lowered his head to the pillow under him, pressing his ass higher, like he was presenting himself to his master.

"Damn straight," Dean growled, turned on ten-fold by Sam's words and then some more by how his back arched like that. It made the urge to lick up the stripe of his spine irresistible. So he did it. And he bit down on the skin where his met his neck, right as his rock hard cock slid snug right between Sam's ass cheeks. He pressed his hips forward at the sensation and they groaned in unison. "Fuck, Sammy," he began a rhythm, just sliding in the crack, relieving some of the pressure. "Never thought I could have you like this," he told him, lips brushing against Sam's neck as he spoke. "Never thought you'd want this..."

"Dean...please," Sam breathlessly replied, pressing back into Dean's thrusts.

"What, baby? What do you want?" Dean asked. Sam remembered, then, that this was supposed to be about what Dean wanted; not him. "Tell me. Wanna hear it."

"Want whatever you're planning to do...want you to do it already," he told him.

Dean drew in a breath through his nose and he slowly pulled back, kissing along Sam's back as he went. His hands went blindly down to the mattress where he'd brought the tube of lube, and Sam heard when the top popped open. "You ever done this before, Sammy?" Dean asked as his fingers sought out and found Sam's clenching hole.

"N-no. Not really," Sam replied, breath stuttering as Dean's fingers made little circles.

"Not really? What's that even mean?" Dean asked, not pausing in his administrations.

"Um..." Sam hesitated, and he didn't want Dean to think he'd been sleeping with guys, because that wasn't the case. But he didn't want to say something that'd put Dean off, either.

"What? You let a girl peg you or somethin'?" Dean smirked, sliding two fingers in, gently, without any resistance.

Sam keened beneath him, rocking back onto Dean's fingers, trying to keep his breath. "Ugh...no," he replied. "Just...let's talk about it after, okay...gah!" Dean's fingers had rubbed over Sam's prostate.

"Mmm I dunno, Sam. I feel like..." he stretched and circled his fingers, adding more lube with his other hand, "This is something you should share. Not gonna tell me you whored yourself out for college money, are you? Make a little amateur gay porn to fund Lawyer Crap 101?"

Sam growled. "No, Dean, you jerk," he tried to swing his hand backward to hit him, and Dean just laughed.

"C'mon, man, you're killin' me, now. I gotta hear this."

"No, actually," Sam countered. "You don't. I promise you that much."

Dean furrowed his brows, concerned now, and he stopped what he was doing, pulling his fingers free, much to Sam's dismay. "Sammy?" he sounded so concerned, Sam deflated and turned to look at him. Dean's face washed with worry made him turn all the way onto his back.

"Please, Dean," he grabbed his arm. "Please don't stop. I want this."

"Sam, you gotta tell me what you're talkin' about, because right now I've got about the worse shit imaginable running through my head, and it ain't helping my libido any," he said in a gruff voice.

Sam's eyes dropped somewhere between them. "Whatever you're thinking is probably close to right," he said, almost whispering.

"Lucifer," Dean surmised.

Sam swallowed, taking in a shaky breath and not wanting to look up and see the pity in Dean's eyes. "It was the pit, Dean. I was supposed to be tortured. He wanted to hurt me in every way possible, and he did." He took another breath when Dean didn't respond. "That was Hell. It was different. This," he looked up at him, then, "This is different and I know that. I know every single moment of it. The pain, Dean..." he shook his head, "You know as well as I that it's not the same as it is in Hell. I wasn't thinking about that at all. Not until you asked. I'm...I'm sorry," he looked away.

"Sammy," he said in an exhale and grabbed hold of either side of Sam's face.

"I've ruined everything. I'm not... You expected me to be...for this to be my first... I've ruined it..."

"No, Sammy," Dean's eyes grew wet. "No you haven't. That's not what I think at all."

"Sure," he tried to pull away.

"It happened to me, too, Sam," Dean said in a rush, like it'd burned to say it out loud. Sam's wide eyes met Dean's. "Not Lucifer, obviously. But like you said, it was Hell," his mouth curved up a bit, yet the smile didn't reach his eyes. "It was meant to suck and they sure do a damn good job of it. But there's no way in hell or any other place, that I'd ever think any less of you for that. You gotta know that, right?"

Sam's eyes were brimmed with tears, knowing his brother had suffered like he had. But also because Dean didn't think of him the way he thought he might because of this. He guessed, though, he shouldn't have thought Dean would think that anyway.

"Sam?" Dean asked again at Sam's silence.

So Sam nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he put his right hand on the side of Dean's neck. "I love you so much, Dean," he said in what could've been a sob, pulling his head closer to him. "And I'm sorry...I know this is like...a huge chick-flick moment, but I don't love anything or anyone as much as I love you. I never have and I never will," his voice cracked, though it had already been shaking to begin with.

Anything else Sam might have wanted to say was stifled by Dean's mouth suddenly upon his. And when Dean pulled away, it was only for a moment to say, "I love you too, Sammy," and dive right back in, laying the rest of his body onto Sam's, docking between Sam's spread legs as they just took the long moment to hold onto each other like this.

Neither was certain how much time had passed before Sam spoke up. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we still gonna...ya know...have sex now?"

Dean pushed up a bit to look at his face. "You still want to?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he looked at him incredulously.

"Oh thank god," Dean said within a sigh, and moved to a kneeling position, dragging Sam up with him. "Change of plans, though. I want you to ride me," he said with a sly looking grin. One Sam wasn't so sure he'd ever actually seen before, which seemed impossible. "Want this to go at your pace."

"But Dean-"

"No, Sam," he cut him off. "Until you're used to it, to how it feels, I don't want one single moment to...remind you anything of...past stuff, okay? Just...please," the look in Dean's eyes, the pleading glare that made them shine almost as if he'd cry if Sam refused his request, had Sam nodding again. And as Dean laid back onto the mattress and Sam straddled his hips, Sam realized that Dean was terrified that Sam would end up looking at him like he was that violator that had taken him by force in the pit, if even the slightest thing went wrong here. If this was what Dean needed in order to feel secure about all of this, Sam would give it to him.

Sam would give him anything...


	8. Chapter 8

Sam bent over, lying his top half against Dean's so their chests and stomachs and cocks were pressed against the other, and kissed him again. He couldn't get enough of that, really. He didn't want to ever stop. And the way Dean's arms wrapped around him, hands encouraging as they rubbed and pulled at Sam's shoulder blades and neck, he was pretty sure Dean liked it, too.

This should be weird. It should be awkward and emotionally confusing and maybe even disgusting somewhere—anywhere in the back of his mind. But it wasn't. Not at all. In fact, he was more comfortable with Dean than he'd ever been with anyone. Especially at the beginning of relationships, but just overall, there wasn't a single ounce of awkwardness at all. Not a moment of disgust or conscience eating at his gut for the facts surrounding who they were to each other. Sure, in the club he'd protested for a moment. But it was more about the logistics, the reasoning behind why he'd never have approached his brother in this way in the past. It wasn't because he didn't want him with every fiber of his being, right or wrong as it may or may not be.

Dean's hips pressed up into Sam's, their cocks sliding deliciously together, and Sam realized it was actually a response to the thrusting he'd not even realize he'd started. Dean was moaning beneath him, into his mouth as they devoured one another, and Sam felt every sound vibrate against his chest and wished they could fuck just like this, without having to change the way they were positioned, just for the dynamics to work.

"God Sammy," Dean said, muffled into Sam's mouth as he pressed his hips up again. "Feel so fuckin' good, baby..."

Sam moaned, the pet name kinda growing on him, and he had to pull away just to breathe a little. Pressing his forehead into Dean's, Sam's hand slipped down between them and he pushed his body up away from Dean's enough to fit his hand around both their cocks, grasping on with a firm fist as they both pumped their hips into it. "Guh..." Sam grunted and his head fell beside Dean's, forehead pushing into the mattress as he tried to keep himself together.

Dean's mouth was on his neck, then, biting and sucking as he continuously keened at Sam's administrations. One of his hands held the other side of Sam's neck, and the other went to his ass, pressing him closer, urging him to continue, as much as it would probably have been a good idea to slow it down before they both lost it.

But Sam was the one to stop, forcing his hand off of them and pushing himself up again. For a split moment, Dean thought Sam had changed his mind. But once their eyes met again, he saw no such indicating emotion. On the contrary, Sam had scooted himself up on his knees and reached behind to grab Dean's cock again, aiming it the best he could to his hole.

"Wait, Sam," Dean grabbed his brother's hips to halt him. "Didn't stretch you enough..."

"I can't...Dean, I can't wait anymore," he told him.

"It'll hurt," Dean warned. "I don't wanna hurt you..."

"But..." Sam was conflicted, "I need to come...and I want you in me when I do..."

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean grasped onto his own cock, pinching the base to stifle his own need in that moment. "Look," he said after the moment passed, "I've got something that'll help," he told him, reaching for another object he'd pulled out earlier. "I originally was gonna use this on me, but you need it more, I think." It was a leather cock ring, and Dean fastened it quickly at the base of Sam's cock before the younger could object. Then he shot his hand up behind Sam's neck and pulled him forward as he sat up. "You don't get to come until I say," Dean growled, then moved his mouth to Sam's jawline where it met right under his ear, and bit down just hard enough to cause a tingle to shoot through Sam. He felt his whole body shiver over him, and Dean's hand moved down past Sam's balls to his twitching hole. "You're gonna let me open you up real good, baby boy, and then you can ride me however you want..."

Sam's nostrils flared with impatience and need, trying to breathe through the anticipation. He wanted to argue; wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. But the umbrella fact that it was Dean's turn, that he deserved whatever he wanted from Sam, made him go along with it, no matter how difficult it seemed it might be.

At least this way, with Dean's fingers playing up inside of him, he could lie back across his brother and kiss him again. But then Dean took that away, too.

"Wanna try something," Dean told him, pulling his fingers free and looking up into Sam's eyes, half-lidded. "Turn around," he instructed. "Like, sixty-nine, Sammy," he smirked at the mixture of lust and panic in Sam's eyes. "Don't worry, baby. You can trust me. It'll all be worth it in the end."

Sam whimpered, actually whimpered as Dean started to physically guide him to turn his body around. Sam was now straddling his face, just about, and Dean could see all the marks he'd made with the whip earlier, red and some welted up, and he knew they likely stung still. He ran his hands up the swollen backs of Sam's thighs and heard Sam hiss through his teeth, saw his dick twitch between his legs, and it made Dean crazy.

"You like that, Sammy?" Dean asked as his palms grazed up to the reddened globes of his brother's ass. "Like that you can still feel it?" He watched as Sam laid his forehead down on Dean's hip, squeezing his eyes closed to stubbornly not respond to the question. But as he did so, his hair brushed against Dean's cock and it twitched so severely, it smacked Sam in the cheek, and Dean would've laughed if seeing his dick so close to his brother's mouth didn't make his brain short-circuit.

Then Sam opened his eyes, bringing his head back up off of Dean's thigh and eying the twitching member with an expression of hunger. "You wanna play, baby?" Dean asked. "Wanna suck your big brother's cock?" Sam's own cock twitched again and Dean had his answer. "Go ahead. Do what you want, Sammy. But don't go crazy down there. I'll tell you when to sto- oh fuck!" Dean threw his head back as Sam had him engulfed as far as he could take, his hand grasping the rest of it as he began to suck in earnest. "Fuck, baby...yeah..."

Dean pulled his mind enough away from the pleasure Sam was giving him, to turn his attention back to Sam. He reached for the lube again, readying three fingers generously, and slowly eased his way into Sam's pink pucker. Sam had to pull off of Dean's dick, gasping for breath at the intrusion of his brother's fingers.

"Okay?" Dean asked, pausing for a moment at Sam's reaction. Sam nodded, pressing back into Dean's hand.

"Keep going..." he told him, and Dean complied, pressing further in, all the way to the second knuckle before he felt Sam clench around him.

"Damn, Sammy...so fucking tight. Can't wait to be inside you..."

Sam groaned and pressed back again, urging Dean on right before taking Dean's length back into his mouth again. Dean bit down on his bottom lip, trying to reign himself in as he continued. But Sam was good. He was either a natural at cock-sucking, or it was just the fact, the thought that it was Sam, that had him on edge. Dean thought maybe it was a little of both.

He was getting close, embarrassingly fast, and Sam was just going to town on him. "Sam," Dean warned. "Sam, you gotta stop," he told him. But Sam wasn't listening, or he was ignoring or who knows, but Dean was panicking now. "Sammy, stop it! I'm gonna fucking come!" Sam kept right on and Dean was desperate now. "Damnit, Sam! Fuck! Ffff...ah godfucksammy!" his head arched as hard as his back, hips involuntarily thrusting up as he was thrown over the threshold, spilling into his brother's mouth so hard he thought he'd black out when it was over.

But he didn't. He forced himself, breathing through the spasms, to stay conscious as he came down, still feeling Sam's mouth nipping at the skin of his inner thigh.

"Told you not to do that," Dean panted.

"Sorry," Sam replied, unconvincingly. "Couldn't help myself."

"Well you're gonna pay for that, now," Dean retorted. "So you better hold on."

And before Sam could think of what that could mean, Dean's hands slapped down on both of Sam's sore ass cheeks, making him yelp, and then he felt an entirely new sensation at his entrance. It only took a moment to figure out it was Dean's mouth, his tongue pressing into his hole as his thumbs held each cheek apart for him.

"Oh god...god, Dean!" his face pressed back into Dean's thigh, hands gripping onto the sheets on either side of him.

Dean only grunted in response, unwilling to let up any time soon. He licked and flicked and sucked endlessly, adding fingers as well, stretching, licking, sucking... It wasn't until Sam was in a consistent state of groaning and moaning out unintelligible words, that Dean stopped. Sam was more than ready now, his cock purple between his legs, prominently leaking pre-come onto Dean's chest. And the noises Sam made had already gotten Dean hard as nails again.

The way Sam was shaking, barely holding himself up over Dean, the original plan didn't seem possible. But he wanted to give Sam as much control as possible. So he looked off to the side where the big mirror stood mounted over the dresser, then back to the bed, and tried to calculate how he should make his movements in order to get them into the right position.

"Dean..." Sam whined impatiently.

"Hold on, Sam. I'm gonna move us, okay? Just...work with me, here," he said as he pushed on Sam's ass. "Crawl forward, would you? Till you're straddling me."

"Uh huh..." Sam weakly crawled a few paces, head smacking into the headboard. "Ow..."

Dean snickered as he sat up and put his hands on Sam's hips. "Sit up," he instructed. Sam used his hands against the headboard to push himself up. "That's it," Dean led him to rest his back against Dean's chest. "Sit in my lap for a second."

"Dean, I can't..."

"You can hold on for a second, baby, promise," Dean told him. "Just need to turn us," he said as he managed to swivel them both to face the mirror. "See? Now we can see us. We won't miss anything," he said in his ear, and Sam looked at the mirror, seeing himself naked and straddling Dean's legs, Dean's arms holding him securely against his chest. He could see his cock; looked as aching as it felt where it stood firm against his stomach, and Dean's sprung out from under Sam's balls. "So fucking sexy, Sammy. Look at us. Can't wait to feel you..."

"Dean..." Sam breathed, restlessly.

"Your rodeo, baby boy. Ready when you are."

Sam swallowed, strength coming back to him a bit now. He pushed up a bit on his knees, then realizing that at this angle, it'd be a bit more difficult to get a hold of Dean's cock. "Dean, put it in. I can't..."

"I'll line it up. Then it's all you," he replied.

Sam felt the head of Dean's cock at his entrance, and he pressed back immediately, swallowing the head over the first ring of muscle. They groaned together, Sam feeling Dean's hands on his hips, stopping him from going further just yet.

"Take your time," Dean told him.

"You said this was my rodeo; my pace," he argued. "Besides, I'm ready, Dean. God...I'm so fucking ready. Please...please..."

Dean watched him in the mirror, their eyes never leaving each others as he spoke, and Dean moved his hands from Sam's hips and settled on his stomach; one below his navel and the other above it. He had to bite his tongue when Sam sat all the way down, taking every inch of him inside with ease and then tightening around him. "Oh fuck, Sammy..." he bit down on his shoulder.

Sam's hands found Dean's, lacing his fingers through the backs of his and holding on as he allowed the feeling to wash over him. It wasn't like anything he'd felt before. More than just full. It was like he wasn't just him anymore. It was like he and Dean were one person. No... That was too cliché. It was like...it was like finally coming home. Like they'd always belonged together like this, never actually knowing it, and now that they were there, they'd realized what that empty feeling had been all these years, only eased by at least being in each others presence.

"Sam, you gotta move or you're seriously gonna kill me," Dean told him, and Sam could feel him shaking beneath him, realizing how hard it was to hold back from just taking it all over.

Sam pulled up a bit, then sank back down, both making appreciative noises at the feeling, and he eventually picked up a rhythm; steady, then building up in speed and force until Sam's thighs started to get too shaky to continue on his own.

Dean seemed to pick up on it as it happened, and he decided to take over, thrusting up into Sam, grabbing a hold of his brother's balls and cock, holding them up so he could see himself sinking in and out of his brother. "Fuck, Sammy, look," he said with a nip to Sam's earlobe. "Look at how good you take me. So fucking gorgeous, baby. Could fuck you like this for days. Make you wait for days before I let you come."

Frustrated, Sam growled. "Dean...I need to come," he begged. "Please. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna fuckin' die if I don't come, Dean, please..."

"I dunno, Sammy," he teased. "You were a bad boy."

"God please, Dea... I'll do anything. Anything you want, please...please please..."

The begging brought Dean to the edge again, and he felt it start to unravel inside of him. "Yeah, baby. Want you to come now. Gonna take this off and you're gonna fuck my hand and come on my cock," he said with his fingers on the cock ring's clasp.

The ring popped off with a snap, and Dean's hand was wrapped around Sam's cock an instant later, stroking wildly. Sam felt the force behind the orgasm build like a shock wave about to run him over, and it was so much more intense than anything he'd ever felt before, he was actually a little afraid.

Dean watched his brother in the mirror, watched his hand on his cock, and then his face once his head dropped back onto Dean's shoulder and he shouted out so loud, Dean question just how soundproof the room actually could be. But that thought was just in the background of how incredibly hot Sam looked and sounded as he came and came and came, shouting out in ecstasy as his hands grabbed for purchase on Dean's arms. He squeezed so tight around Dean's cock, Dean had to bite down on his lip just to keep from losing it before Sam could finish. And when his shouts died down and his body was quaking with the aftermath, Dean pushed him down onto his back on the bed, positioning him so he could be between his legs again, and began stroking himself, watching Sam watch him do it.

He was a bit amazed Sam was still even conscious, if he were to be honest. An orgasm that heavy was usually a damned tranquilizer for a dude. He was actually kinda proud.

Sam's hand on his, Dean realized he'd clamped his own hand on Sam's hip as he hovered over him, stroking himself in aim to mix with Sam's come on his stomach. Sam encouraged him, rubbing his hand up Dean's free arm. "Come on, Dean... Wanna see it..."

"Shit..." Dean lost it, grunting through his own orgasm and watching in awe as Sam rubbed every drop of it into his own skin, as if he wanted it to absorb into him. In the end, Dean lined himself up at Sam's entrance and pressed back in, wanting to still be joined with his brother while it was still possible.

Sam let out a voiceless breath at the feeling of Dean inside of him again. He watched his brother as he gently laid back over Sam, eyes meeting as he leaned in to kiss him. Short kisses being all they could manage as they were in much need of air. And he watched Dean watch him; looking at him so intently, his eyes shifting back and forth between Sam's as his hand come up and brushed Sam's hair from his face, then trailed down to his jaw and neck and shoulder, never once taking his eyes from Sam's. It was as if he were amazed by something in them. And Sam smiled at him, bring his own hand up to Dean's face and picking his head up a bit to kiss him again.

Dean kissed back, letting Sam's head rest back again on the pillow. "I love you, Sammy. Love you so much," he said as he nuzzled his face into his brother's neck.

Sam felt his eyes begin to sting, and he blinked rapidly to stifle it as he wrapped his arms around Dean's back, hugging him tightly to him. "Love you more than anything, Dean," he replied in a whisper.

They stay like that for a moment, until Sam spoke again. "I'm burning that cock ring thing, first chance I get."

Dean could hear the smile on his face. "No you're not," he replied. "You can't tell me that wasn't a damn good orgasm."

"No. No I can't," Sam agreed. "That thing still dies, though."

"The cock ring is innocent," Dean pulled his head up to meet his eyes again. "Tell you what. You let it live, I'll wear it next time."

Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment. "I'll think about it."

"Oh really?" Dean raised his brows with a grin. "You'll think about it, huh? You know how much that thing cost?" Sam snorted a laugh with a wide grin. "Oh I see your game. You want me to agree to some more terms."

"No," Sam shook his head. "I'm just trying to get on your nerves," he told him. Then his smile dropped and his eyes wandered somewhere in the air between them. He was doing it again. Being an ungrateful asshole. Shit...

"Hey," Dean took his chin in his hand and made him look at him again. "Sometimes I like when you try to get on my nerves," he told him, then leaned back down for a kiss.

Sam was washed with a sense of relief, hugging him again, and then turned them both over so they were lying side by side, still holding on to each other. "You're heavy," Sam explained when Dean looked at him in question.

"Not as heavy as you, Gigantor."

"You like it."

"Shut up," he poked him in the stomach and Sam laughed as he squirmed a bit, then snuggled up into his brother's chest. "Hey, no going to sleep. What'd Kevin think if he found us like this in the morning?" Dean said.

"Who cares?" Sam replied, snuggling even closer and keeping his eyes closed.

Dean thought about that for a minute, then pursed his lips and raised his brows in an expression that said, "Touche."

The end...


End file.
